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Two people from opposing camps could cooperate toward shared goals. But they could also find themselves in irreconcilable conflict over different objectives.
Luffy and Gin argued over Eren's fate—whether he should stay or go, live or face trial. Neither could convince the other to compromise. Neither would back down.
Luffy's dream was becoming Pirate King. He pursued that goal relentlessly, moving forward without hesitation. Along his journey, he rarely initiated conflicts with Marines—it was always those "running dogs of the World Government" who provoked him first.
For a pirate, not actively attacking Marines was already showing restraint. Other pirate crews showed zero mercy to isolated Marine soldiers. The two factions were naturally opposed—peaceful coexistence was a fantasy.
When law enforcement met outlaws, fights to the death were inevitable.
Yet the Straw Hat Pirates—led by Monkey D. Luffy—were anomalies. They didn't raid islands to rob, burn, kill, or pillage. Didn't actively attack Marines or World Government facilities. They were outliers among outliers on the seas.
That's why the Marines reclassified us as an "adventure group" rather than pirates, Luffy thought with some satisfaction.
"Gin," Luffy said, his voice carrying absolute finality. "It's useless. I won't hand Eren over to you. I chose you as a friend—not your uniform." His expression hardened. "After what happened five years ago, I've matured. I'll never integrate with the Marines. Never. Not even Grandpa can change that decision."
Gin's emotions remained relatively controlled, but watching his friend grow increasingly agitated—practically vibrating with readiness to attack—made something clear.
Ace's death wounded him too deeply, Gin realized. Some matters of principle can no longer be handled ambiguously.
If the Marineford tragedy hadn't occurred, perhaps Eren would have been handed over without conflict today. But there were no "ifs" in reality. No medicine for regret.
Admiral Gin sighed—a rare display of vulnerability in front of friends.
"Luffy," he said quietly. "You spared Don Krieg's crew at the Baratie in East Blue. You saved my life. Redeemed my soul when I'd lost all hope." His perpetually-tired eyes showed genuine sadness. "I really don't want to fight you. Don't want to destroy this rare friendship we've built."
Only five years had passed. Yet so much had changed. Even people who'd been close had transformed beyond recognition.
Monkey D. Luffy was no longer the naive boy from East Blue. And Gin—loyal, grateful Gin—had changed too after half a decade in the Marines.
Both recognized the inevitable truth simultaneously.
Fighting was unavoidable.
Luffy wasn't shameless enough to launch a surprise attack. He took several steps backward, creating distance between them. If neither of us will compromise, we'll settle this with our fists.
Gin's expression grew darker, more ominous. Moisture began condensing around his body—droplets appearing from nowhere, proof of the Ame Ame no Mi (Rain-Rain Fruit) activating.
Luffy wasn't intimidated. His arms darkened with jet-black Busoshoku Haki (Armament Haki), muscles tensing in preparation to activate Gear Fourth at a moment's notice.
Allies who'd fought side-by-side minutes ago now faced each other with killing intent. Neither pair of eyes showed any intention of backing down.
The only proof of their former harmony lay between them—Law's bisected corpse, covered by Gin's white coat. The surgeon would be devastated knowing this conflict, knowing his death had accomplished nothing.
But death is a relief, both men thought simultaneously. The world remains cruel regardless.
Perhaps God—or fate, or simple narrative convenience—didn't want them to become enemies.
An astonishing aura exploded from the Founding Titan's surface.
The pressure was immense. Overwhelming. It crashed over Luffy and Gin like a physical wave, forcing both combatants to stumble backward. Their attention snapped toward the disturbance's source.
What they saw defied belief.
"That's impossible!" Luffy's voice cracked. "Law killed him! We watched him die!"
"The threads—" Gin stared, analytical mind struggling to process the impossibility. "They're stitching his body back together. Is this also Devil Fruit power?!"
At the small depression where Doflamingo had fallen face-first into rainwater, the corpse was moving.
The lower body stood upright first—legs straightening despite lacking upper torso for balance. Then white threads erupted from the bisection point, reaching toward the upper half lying several meters away.
The threads moved with horrifying purpose. Surgical precision. They wove through destroyed tissue, reconnecting severed blood vessels, rebuilding structural support one fiber at a time.
His internal organs were liquefied, both watchers remembered with visceral clarity. Reduced to bloody paste by Law.
But the threads were remaking them.
Heart-shaped constructs formed from woven string, pulsing with artificial rhythm. Lung-analogues expanded and contracted. Kidneys, stomach, liver, intestines—every organ necessary for human function was being reconstructed from pure thread, animated by willpower and Devil Fruit mastery that transcended normal biological limits.
The astonishing aura intensified as reconstruction accelerated. Upper body pulled toward lower, dragged by thread-tethers that ignored gravity and physics. Within Luffy and Gin's horrified gazes, the two halves merged—skin closing seamlessly over the connection point.
Less than a minute total. From death to resurrection in under sixty seconds.
Doflamingo's eyes snapped open—awareness returning instantly rather than gradually. His throat reformed from thread-analogue tissue, vocal cords reweaving themselves.
That devilish grin spread across his face.
"Fuffuffuffuffu! Surprised?" The Heavenly Yaksha's laughter echoed across the battlefield—theatrical, mocking, utterly self-satisfied. "You're only capable of sneak attacks. Unfortunately, I gave you so many chances, but you're all too useless to capitalize."
He rotated his neck experimentally, testing the thread-body's responsiveness. Everything functioned perfectly—better than before, even. His gaze fell on Law's bisected corpse lying nearby.
The ungrateful brat won't stand up again, Doflamingo thought with satisfaction. Trying to trade his life for mine? He was never qualified.
During the demon's revival, neither Luffy nor Gin had moved to interrupt.
Not because of honor. Not because of hesitation.
They'd been paralyzed by shock, watching the resurrection process with horrified fascination. Both had traveled extensively, fought countless battles, seen Devil Fruit abilities of every variety.
But they'd never witnessed someone with two lives.
Even the world's strongest fighters couldn't resurrect after death. Whitebeard had stayed dead. Ace had stayed dead. Roger had stayed dead.
Yet Doflamingo stood before them—fully healed, internal and external injuries erased completely. Even his stamina and Haki had been restored to peak condition.
He'd performed a miraculous resurrection without falling into weakness or exhaustion. Still looked energized. Ready for another battle.
"The look on your faces—like you're seeing ghosts!" Doflamingo laughed harder. "Country bumpkins. Ignorant fools. Devil Fruits have more than just Awakening, you know."
The casual statement triggered memory in Luffy's mind. Buggy the Clown—his cheap master—had explained Devil Fruit principles during training.
There are stages beyond Awakening, Buggy had said. Heights most users never reach.
Gin retreated toward Luffy's position, abandoning pride in favor of tactical pragmatism. He wasn't skilled at close combat, relied heavily on his Devil Fruit's ranged capabilities. Against Doflamingo in this enhanced state, cooperation was mandatory.
The two former-allies-turned-almost-enemies reached silent understanding immediately. Personal conflicts could wait. Survival took priority.
Luffy would serve as front-line tank—attracting aggro, absorbing damage. Gin would provide long-range artillery support. Standard party composition for fighting raid bosses.
Doflamingo in this state is several times stronger than before, both thought simultaneously. How much stronger, exactly?
The Straw Hat vaguely guessed part of the truth.
"You've surpassed the second stage of Devil Fruit development," Luffy said, voice mixing accusation with grudging respect. "Buggy told me this state is called Liberation—it fully releases the Devil Fruit's power sealed inside your body." He swallowed nervously. "I didn't expect even someone like you could achieve it."
Internally, Luffy felt slight relief. As long as he hasn't reached the third stage—Domain—we still have a chance.
Devil Fruit Liberation?
Doflamingo savored the term, finding it appropriate for describing his current condition. The String-String Fruit felt more intimately connected to his consciousness now—not a power he possessed but an extension of his being.
He'd been hiding this state for years. Cultivating it in secret. Gin and Luffy had forced him to reveal his final trump card.
They should be proud, Doflamingo thought with dark amusement. Very few people ever pushed me this far.
He would treat them with his warmest hospitality—cut them into tiny pieces, then complete his feat of world destruction alongside Eren.